


My Girl

by elizabethmarks



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beth is hurt Rio takes care of her, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Heartbreaking and also Heartwarming, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethmarks/pseuds/elizabethmarks
Summary: Another Brio fic. ❤️A lot of dark. And a lot of light. A lot of feels.Thank you for reading! Read notes for trigger warnings.
Relationships: Beth Boland & Rio, Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 137
Kudos: 292





	1. Where is she?

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Rape - (Not by Rio) - This is a very sensitive topic that I have a lot of empathy for. The entire fic won’t be dark/violent but there are pretty dark moments. So if it's not for you, that's A-okay.

Rio's heart pounds in his chest.

He can't feel his hands. Time has never gone so slow.

His feet have never been this heavy.

 _Strawberry-blonde, blue eyes, lily-white skin_ \- that's what he's looking for in this dark hell - his eyes wild like a panther.

An hour earlier, Rio's sitting at his bar, throwing back a shot of bourbon... Just like her, it goes down warm. 

"Sup" he nods at Mick who's walking toward him with an unreadable expression. Rio has a feeling it ain't good news.

"Yeah... it's your girl." Mick says, when he reaches Rio. Rio cocks his head. _Elizabeth_. 

"Had my eyes on her all day. I turn my back for a fuckin' second - she's like watchin a toddler," he shakes his head.

He has Rio's full attention.

"Getta the fuckin point, yeah?"

"I tracked her on that mama van's GPS - It ain't in a good spot. Thought about heading there myself. The bar was on the way. Thought you'd wanna - "

 _"Where is she?"_ Rio's jaw tightens, his arm muscles tense.

"I guess she's trynna wash the cash we been washing that you turned her loose with... with you-know-who. Bad enough when I did the drops. But a lady? He's not gonna deal with kindly. _Specially_ not her." 

Rio knows who Mick's referring to. A sociopathic drug lord named Dom.

Knows Beth would have remembered the address from when they were moving pills. Would try to get him to buy more pills with the fake cash and sell it for the real deal.

Knows she's _still_ naive enough... or maybe distressed and discouraged enough to try and do this alone.

 _Fuck_...he thinks. Revenge. He'd wanted revenge. Wasn't really unjustified either. But now seems irrelevant.

His stomach turns so hard his vision blurs. This asshole will take Beth's product. Then he'll rip her to shreds. Rio can't force himself to think about in what way.

Instead he thinks about that crackhouse he roughed up before getting her little girl's pink blanket back. The blanket was soft. Had smelled slept on and loved. Like baby shampoo and french toast. He couldn't help himself.

But those crackheads' bullshit, that she barely talked her way out of, were a playdate compared to this guy. Dom’s a known killer. 

Rio's fairly certain in addition to moving pills, Dom moves humans - if it's sex-trafficking or what, Rio doesn't know. He's always just minded his business.

He knows you got people who are criminals - who are also just people - that's most criminals. And then you got criminals who are not people. Have no feeling, no remorse. Enjoy the torture, the kill. And it sounds like Beth’s with one of those non-people. 

Rio doesn't bother closing his tab. He's out the back door in three strides, Mick close behind. 

"Get in," he orders, without turning his head. He peels out onto the freeway with his pulse in his throat.

Weaving through late afternoon traffic, Rio cuts off any and every car looks like they might even _think about_ passing him.

It's worst-case type scenarios Rio's mentally preparing for. He's prepared for it not to be pretty. Dom having her tied up. Gagged. Tortured, until she gives up everything. Every place. Every name. Where she prints. All of it. Then he'll ... well he won't need her anymore, will he?

Rio knows this. 'Cause he's done it. Maybe he and Dom ain't that different. The thought sends a chill up his spine.

He’s hoping that it won’t be worst case. That she’ll be running her mouth enough to keep things from getting ugly until he can get there.

At least Mick knows the drill with these things. They won't need back-up. One convenient thing about a non-human is that they don't wanna be near people and people don't wanna be near them.

Which means there’ll be no accomplices, and no witnesses.

Dom will be alone... with her. Rio's face twitches. His eyes sting. The sensation so foreign and strange, he doesn't realize they're tears. 

_Get it together, bitch. This ain't helpin' nobody._ He wipes roughly at his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

 _Goddammit_ , if he could just quit caring about this woman.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. It's almost got a pained laugh to it. _You know what's a true test you ain't gonna quit caring?_ he thinks. _A woman shoots you three times and you still regret not trying harder to protect her._

He bites the inside of his cheek. He's trying now though. All he can do. _And fuck,_ he thinks, _She's worth it._ _All of it._

He's pulling 96mph. If he could get to her any faster, he would.

Rio's familiar enough with the place. He clocks her van out front. Mick posts up at the front door after breaking through a window and getting himself inside, in case someone decides to drop by. 

Rio's quick, methodical. A pro. Nothing about his demeanor gives his inner panic away.

With the main floor of the cluttered, stench-filled house canvassed, Rio remembers a basement. It had a weird entry way. The door that led to it was in the... the bathroom. 

Rio makes his way, eyes darting, to a small bathroom where he finds a door that opens to a set of stairs, another door - closed - at the bottom.

Takes everything in him not to scream out her name. But this man is ruthless, crazy. He may snap her neck then and there.

No. Rio will have one shot at this guy. He'll have to be quiet. Quick. 

As he silently makes his way down the narrow set of stairs, he hears a sound, growing louder, that makes his blood run cold.

Rio's heart pounds in his chest. He can't feel his hands. Time has never gone so slow. His feet have never been this heavy.

 _Strawberry-blonde, blue eyes, lily-white skin_ \- that's what he's looking for in this dark hell - his eyes wild like a panther.

This whole time he'd been looking. Had expected to see her. He wasn't prepared to _hear_ her. His relief turns to pain the second he recognizes her cries.

"Pleeease. NO! Stop! Stop!...Stop..."

There’s a pause of painful gulping sobs.

"You're...hurting...me...”

Her pleas seem to go on and on.

The sobs escaping her throat choke him.

Rio can feel the fight in her lungs. Like his have quit working altogether.

"No. No. Pleeease..."

He would recognize that cracked whimper anywhere. It's a sound he's never heard her make - prays he never has to again - but it's her.

His reaction is primal, like he was made to recognize it. To protect her from whatever's causing it.

He's moving fast as a panther now, his jaw set so hard it may cut through his skin.

One kick and the door is down off its hinges, makes a loud popping sound when it strikes the cement floor.

And he's walking across it like a bridge.

His gold pistol drawn. Loaded. Cocked.

The silence that follows hangs in the air, for no more than a second.

But it's ice cold and it cuts the room like a knife.

Rio's voice comes out with strength and control. Thick, deep, gravelly. He punches the words.

"Get...the... _Fuck_. OFF. Of. Her."

His deep brown eyes look like they're on fire.

Beth's whimper turns to a strangled cry.

He wants to go to her. Rip this filthy fuck off her body.

The six foot four inch hulk of a figure pushes himself up and out of Beth. Tucks himself in - reaches in his back pocket for his pistol. 

The moment his unbearable weight lifts off her, Beth lets out a choking cry, curling into herself.

Her ripped green dress falls around her thighs. She doesn't move.

The image burns into Rio's brain. He will never unsee it.

Nothing she has ever done could justify this.

Dom's turning now, pistol raised, toward the intruder who just interrupted the good time he'd been having.

It's one shot. A loud crack. Right between the eyes.

Dom falls face down, blood pooling around his head.

Rio hopes the flames in hell never stop burning.

He lets out his breath, turns his eyes down to the cold, concrete floor. To her.

Beth's hot tears pool around her freckled cheeks. Her lips - bright red and trembling. Eyelashes closed tight against her tears. Chest heaving.

Of all the scenarios he'd prepared for - this wasn't one.

Getting tied down and pistol whipped is one thing if you fuck up. Comes with the job. Not this. Not rape. That word makes him see red.   
_  
This_ has nothing to do with drugs. With money. With business.

It still should have occurred to him. It didn’t.

There's a shaky inhale from Beth's crumpled form. Her eyes, barely open, look for Rio. 

His feet feel like lead again as he makes his way to her side.

"I'm here, darlin," he whispers, too afraid to touch her. Afraid she'll flinch. Doesn't think he could bear it.

He had come here to save her life.

Quick and simple: Get her out. Make sure she was okay. Scold her. Drop her at home.

But how does he save her from this?

He has no desire to scold her.

None at all to drop her anywhere that she's not by his side - in his arms.

A strange warmth spreads across his abdomen making him feel both sick and filling him with an affection he thought he'd left behind somewhere in his childhood.

"S'okay, sweetheart," those fuckin' tears prick at his eyes again. He blinks hard at them, willing them away.

"I'm right here."

Her eyes squeeze tight against new tears, her crying barely audible, just tiny hiccups and squeaks in the back of her throat.

It would be cute if it weren't under these circumstances. Instead, his heart feels like it's tearing in two.

Rio's not sure if she's able to respond. Doesn't know if he should call a paramedic, scoop her up, or wait.

He looks at her pretty strawberry hair, golden when it catches the light, her porcelain skin covered in dirt, dust, god only knows.

He has to get her out of here. She does not belong in a place like this.

"Darlin?" he tries again. He rubs his hands on his thighs.

"I'm just gunna touch your cheek."

He's not used to explaining himself... not used to any of this .

"Just needa know you're okay." 

He reaches down with the most gentle, feather-light touch, stroking her hair out of her sticky tears. 

She doesn't flinch.

He moves his hand to cup the back of her head. Her hair tangled, but still so soft in his hand. 

He leans his face close to hers, his mouth open, lower lip quivering, "Elizabeth."

Its barely a whisper, but she leans toward his body, toward his voice.

She tries to speak but her breathing is still erratic.

"I needed you," she mouths before another wave of tears roll down her scrunched nose onto her lips.

 _I know baby_ , he thinks, unable to speak aloud. Shaking his head at what he allowed to happen to her.

That word revenge floats into his mind.

It sickens him. Not even her turning his gun on him, firing those shots into him, warranted this. Death, at least, is merciful. There is no mercy in this.

Yea, he didn't do this. Yea, he could argue this ain't on him. If it wasn't _her_... he would. But it is her.

His feelings for her are nestled in his bones. She's not just business. Never was.

And he let his anger, his resentment, and maybe his ego... keep him from looking out for her.

In fact, he'd pushed her about as far out into open water as he could, tryna teach her some goddamn lesson. And he knew there were sharks.

He'd worked hard to keep her afraid of him. As usual, that was the plan, and it worked. Worked so good she nearly killed him.

But past that, through that, under that... he knew she needed him.

Never wanted it made plain by something as horrific as this.

"Look at me, mama." 

She blinks open those soft blue eyes that stop his heart.

He's never seen pain in them like this - fear, shame.

And still, they're so beautiful it makes him ache.

Still cradling her head, he gently takes her hand in his.   
  
Soft... like everything about her.

She pulls her body into his, slowly attempting to sit up.

Her dress is dirty, there's blood under her fingernails, a bruise blooming across her collarbone.

Rio resists the urge to pull her into him and run. Doesn't wanna scare her. Doesn't know how bad she's hurt.

She struggles, but manages to sit up enough that he pulls her onto his lap, and suddenly, she's like a baby koala that's been separated from its mother.

She puts her arms around him, clinging - presses her face into his neck.

He feels her tears now, her trembling mouth against his pulse point. 

Her whole body's shaking as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She lets out a cry when his hands grip her ribs too tightly, and he flinches, moving his hand down to the softness of her lower back.

He becomes aware of the pool of blood from Dom's gaping head-wound making its way toward them.

"Hold onto me, mama, I know you're hurt..." he swallows.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" His voice is familiar in her ears, soothing.

As carefully as he can, he slips his hand under her. Her thighs clench tight, and he flinches again.

He never flinches. He makes other people flinch. 

"Ow," Beth stifles a whimper as he moves one hand to the floor to push off his knees and stand up.

He lifts her like you carry your kid sister around in a pool, where they're light as a feather, cradled in your arms.

Her head on his chest, he holds her pressed against him trying so hard not to hurt her - "You're still my girl..." he whispers to her, and moves toward the stairs.

Mick's still standing by the front door, arms crossed, unprepared for the tightness in his chest when he sees Rio carrying Beth like a dirty rag doll.

Cuts, bruises, and streaks of blood hit different on Beth's pretty body and light-green dress, being carried out of a drug lord's cellar.

And somehow, Mick knows what that prick did to her.

Rio awkwardly digs his key outta his pocket, hands it to Mick. 

"Clean it up good, yeah?" he says, nodding toward the decomposing body in the basement.

Rio's careful not to press on or pinch Beth's still shaking form, shielding her head, as he turns through the doorframe and walks out of this filthy hell hole to the mama van he secretely loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like reading comments so feel free to leave them xo


	2. French Toast

The clean-up is routine. Just another day at the office. Gives Mick a lot of time to think.

He doesn't dislike Beth. Sure, her 'its my way or no way' attitude and strong-willed, bottomless tenacity can be a fuckin pain in his ass.

But there's something familiar about her now. Something sweet.

It could be the four kids. The little ones, the girls, still calling her, "Mommy."

He watches her. It's his job. And she may not be winning anymore PTA awards - But she is a good mother.

She knows her kids inside and out. What makes them unique.

Tries to keep them active - takes 'em to the park. _Goddamn that woman loves the park._ It's free. He gets it.

Bakes for them... Her kitchen always smells like heaven. Like French Toast.

The house has a warmth to it. There’s kind of this glitter that hangs in the air. 

Well... there was before he was tasked with relocating all her furniture.

That had been harder than he expected.

Stacked in a truck, it’s just stuff. But it was all part of a story.

Ballet costumes and hula hoops.

Wine glasses, bowls of popcorn, soft blankets covering the sofa.

Jenga stacked by the fireplace. A fresh pot of coffee. Hot chocolate with colorful marshmallows.

A jewelry dish with her earrings.

Worn books stacked by her bed. Her bed. 

The loveseat where she had held ‘Little Feisty One’ that night she‘d come to the door sobbing. Where they’d all sat laughing when ‘Smart, Cautious’ one showed up.

Thick as thieves, those three.

The bunkbeds where she tucked her girls in to sleep. Kissed their heads. Always pausing at the doorway just to watch them fall asleep. Her head against the doorframe.

Like maybe if she wished it over them, their lives would turn out with less emptiness, less pain.

She really just wants them to be happy.

Mick sees a lot of angry people. Cynical.

What’s wrong with wanting happiness for your kids?

Beats perfection. That’ll set you up for failure every time. 

The thing that stands out though, is how she protects their sense of worth. Their self-esteem.

Lot of parents do the opposite - it always results in shame.

Kids start hiding things. And sure, she's hiding plenty herself. But she's an open door with them.

The middle boy, ‘Freckles’, came straight to her one day... just told her he'd started feeling awkward around the girls in his class. That he wanted to impress them, but felt stupid.

That some of the boys were watching dirty pornos on their phones. That he tried once and it just made him feel bad. That it seemed like everything was changing so fast.

And shit, she could've freaked.

But, she reassured him his feelings were normal. Told him to just be himself. That he was good enough, and not to rush growing up. Enjoy his childhood. He was still her little boy.

It was obvious, even when he wrinkled his nose when she ruffled his hair, that he had hoped that was true.

She hugged him close - _Danny -_ Mick recalls.

Then she took his face in her hands and got serious. Told him to respect the girls in his class. If they share a private photo, it stays private.

That no means no. And stop means stop...

Remembering makes Mick stop cold.

That was Danny’s mom in this dirty cellar... being completely - His _mom._

If boys knew this could happen to their moms, would they still grow up to do it to other women?

Shit's never made sense to Mick.

But freckles' had seemed to take in all her advice.

Beth told him not to make his older brother feel bad that he wasn't interested in that stuff yet.

Because she knew her kids - and the older one was still very boyish.

He‘d wanted a bounce house at his birthday party. Still looks for her eyes at swim practice, make sure she‘s watching.

”Look, mom!”

And when he got to be an adult, Beth would be the mother who let him come home when life got hard.

Her other kids would be fine. But that one - he’d need her longer. And she’d ignore the judgement from people that said she should make him be a man. 

She knew her children. She loved them.

And maybe that’s why Mick had been frightened seeing the paler than usual, dirty, bloody, bruised, woman in his boss's arms.

Human.

Mick knows that she's a whole person outside of this. Maybe they all are. Most of them.

This kind of thinking is dangerous. It's not the job. The job is looking away. No attachments.

Some girl's being carried up the stairs covered in blood - Who's she? Just some tweakers girlfriend. Wrong place, wrong time. And move along.

Still, with Beth, he's going to hope, for his sake, for Rio's, for hers most of all, that she heals from this. Separates it from who she is.

That all the dirt will wash off and she'll be back in her favorite pair of jeans and one of those soft sweaters with little rosebuds or whatever they are all over them - in her kitchen... laughing with her little sister and best friend. That she'll get back to making her French Toast.


	3. I know you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: *i reuploaded this chapter b/c it didn’t update the date and you couldn’t see it and THEN realized I coulda just changed the date but we're not gonna talk about that*
> 
> Hi, in this chapter we learn once again that Dean is a total d*ck. I promise the following chapter will feature more of Beth & Rio in the present context. I tend to give a lot of backstory. kinda sorry kinda not. Hope you enjoy either way, and I truly intend to put the next chapter out sooner than I was able to with this one. One can hope. Xx Also thank you for the comment I got, I'm sorry it got deleted!!

Rio parks Beth's van along a line of trees a couple blocks from her house.

They'd both been quiet on the drive back, but Rio had caught her wiping tears away with the back of her hand… noticed how tightly she was curled into herself.

He'd taken off his coat and used it to cover her legs. On top of everything else, he could see her shivering.

Now here they sit, and Rio's not sure what to do next.

_ Does she wanna go to her house?.  _ .. there's not even a bed for her to lay on.  _ Shit  _ .

_ Go big or go home...  _ How had things gotten this bad... this rivalry they developed that's turned into  _ this  _ .

He'd been determined to do things his way.

It was the only way he knew. And he'd gotten used to having Yes Men.

They did what they were told - They got their money. End of.

_ Not her...  _

He wasn't used to pushback. Wasn't used to someone so defiant, so fearless.

But here she sits looking, for all her years and mothering, like one of her own little girls.

Rio's seen her be many things, but he's never seen her this vulnerable.

He inhales, and faces her… resting his hand lightly on her hip.

"You wanna go to your house, ma? Or, you think you needa go to a hospital - "

"No," Beth’s voice is barely above a whisper, it still sounds hoarse...

_ From screaming  _ , Rio flinches.

"I'll go to my doctor Monday. I'll need to... explain what happened... but I can lie about the details...” 

Beth has a far away look in her eyes. 

Rio sits and waits, moving his thumb in slow circles on her hip.

“I don't want to go home," Beth pauses, “there’s nothing to go home to…” the look in her eyes becomes even more vacant as she continues,

“...my kids are staying with Dean's mom. And Dean's... probably fucking his old boss...or.. or maybe there's someone new... I don't..."

Rio sees her wipe away another tear.

"Come stay at my place, mama. You can take my bed, yeah? I’ll sleep on the floor for a change," Rio attempts a little smirk.

Beth tries to smile back, but the heaviness she feels won’t allow it.

She thinks through his offer.

She could stay with Annie - she physically aches to be wrapped in one of her little sister’s tight hugs, listening to her ramble on and on about things Beth hasn't got a clue of what she’s even talking about.

But she's not ready for Annie to see her like this. She'd rather have her younger sister yelling at her, misunderstanding her, thinking she has it all handled, than know the truth.

Know that Beth made a mistake, a big one, and how humiliated she feels.

There’s also her best friend… but Ruby has so much else to worry about.

The last thing she and Stan need is someone else to take care of. Not while Ruby’s still using a scooter to get around.

And all the issues Ruby’s been having with sweet Sarah… Beth knows how much that’s been breaking her friend’s heart. 

_ I can’t burden her with my shit right now. _

"I, um, need... a few things... some clean clothes... soap," Beth says turning to Rio.

"I got soap, darlin’,” he offers playfully, still a look of concern in his deep brown eyes.

"I don’t want...  _ man  _ soap." 

Rio arches his eyebrow.

"Ok then. We can stop by your place. Get whatchu need. Clothes... hair brush... toothbrush,  _ girl  _ soap."

This time Beth almost manages a small smile.

"It's comforting to me."

Rio nods. He gets it. The soap thing. That smell that makes you smell like you.

He thinks about the way Beth smells. How it leaves him intoxicated every time he's near her.

It's sugary, and a little spicy ... not pepper spicy.

_ Cinnamon  _ .  _ She smells like cinnamon... _

_ like Christmas morning... _

He often reaches out to touch her. Feel her. Can’t get enough of the feel of her.

He also wants to make sure she's real... because for a long, long time, she felt like a dream.

But it's more than the feel of her - he also wants to be close enough that whatever stiff drink still lingers on her breath, or sometimes it's the maple syrup from her breakfast... whatever fabric softener she's used that day, or whatever it is that mixes with all that she is, he wants to breathe it in, take it with him when he goes.

No matter how violently pissed off he is with her at any given moment, when he's close enough that he can smell her scent, he doesn’t regret being near her.

Like the first time he saw her after  _ the incident  _ seated at that bar... despite the resentment, the sting of betrayal that hovered between them... that look in her eyes that hurt him to see…

She looked so afraid of him… 

Despite all of it, he had breathed in the scent against her soft curls and sweater… and he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.

Rio pulls into Beth's driveway.

"Okay, ma... I'll be quick."

"Wait, should I - " Beth starts.

"Nah, I know you... know whatchu want... the soft jeans, the pjs with the stripes, your bra, panties..." he winks, "your robe... your soap."

Beth blushes. 

_ “I know you... “‘can I get a bourbon? - on the rocks…’” _

Beth watches Rio disappear inside her house, and decides to schedule her dreaded doctor's appointment.

"Hi, yes, this is Elizabe - Beth. Boland. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Wells for Monday. I'm so sorry, I know it's last minute. It's.. a bit of an emergen -

...I kno - I know what the emergency room is. I need to see  _ this  _ doctor though. I don't trust anyone else - he knows me and…

…no would you just  _ LISTEN  _ to me…”

Beth wipes her running nose with the back of her hand. 

“That's nice, sweetie. You can call me a karen all you want. But I need -  _ god dammit  _

...Is he still in? Just - Just let me speak with him!”

Beth's hands shake so bad she can barely hold her phone.

"Hi, Dr. Wells? It's Beth... Boland.. I'm so sorry to bother you. It's ...no, I'm okay,” she pauses, taking a breath.

“...that's not really true. Please apologize to your receptionist for me, but I - something's happened and...

...the police have everything handled... they've done a rape kit. I know... thank you... I just, I don't want anyone else examining me. I feel really fragile… and… yes… Monday at eleven will work...

...thank you so much. I will."

The police involvement had been a lie. The rape kit too. Fortunately, neither were necessary.

But only trusting Dr. Wells - that was the truth.

He had delivered her last two babies - had not given up on her, after Dean did, when she had not wanted a cesarean with Emma.

She thinks back to how awful it all was. Memories that should have been sweet, made her feel sick.

_ “That's what a C-section is, Dean - it’s surgery!” _

How would she take care of their other three babies, and breastfeed a newborn, while recovering from major surgery? 

She’d tried nicely to explain this to him for the hours he insisted she just get a c-section so they could get this over with.

Was  _ he  _ going to take care of them all day, put them in their highchairs, put them in their carseats, do twenty loads of laundry, and rock them to sleep? Because she would need to be able to lift her children to do those things - and if she’s been sliced open and put back together with staples, she wouldn’t be able to.

The dismissive look on his face told her that her anxiety was not irrational.

_ How incredibly hard this all must be for him  _ , she thought.

_ “Do it your way, Beth. I’ve been awake for the last seventeen hours, dealing with this. But by all means, do it your way!” _

_ “I’m so sorry my being in labor with your child is so inconvenient for you!”  _ she cried, trying to breathe through her excruciating contractions.

At that point, Dean had walked out, leaving Beth to “deal with this” on her own. 

It hurt so bad. More than she remembered.

She wanted someone to let her hurt and scream without making her feel like it was her fault.

Someone to hold her hand, tell her everything would be okay… someone who wouldn’t walk out on her when she was in this much pain.

Dr. Wells, a gray-haired man, with a gentle disposition, had been kind and patient through her thirty hour labor and two hour delivery. Her epidural had worn off by hour ten, and it wasn’t safe to give her another one.

He remained on the shift, reassuring her that he would not leave her side until her baby was safely in her arms.

He’d even scolded the nurse for not getting Beth more ice chips - the nurse mumbling something about not being a beverage attendant. He'd requested another nurse - an angel, who wiped Beth’s forehead with a cool, wet cloth, pushing her sweat-drenched curls out of her eyes, who held her leg when it was time for her to push.

Beth could barely hold her head up. Was going in and out of consciousness from the pain.

Who knew where Dean was... Maybe with one of his girlfriends she’d had no idea about at the time. 

_ I’m such a fucking idiot,  _ she thinks.

But that was probably her fault too. Because she hadn’t been fun or sexy anymore. Just tired and pregnant  _ all. the. time. _

Annie made jokes about Beth being lame. They were jokes, but the truth in them hurt, and it was why leaving her pearls for Rio all those months ago had been so important to her.

Rio didn’t make her feel lame. He made her feel desired and seen. It was the first time in her 43 years of life that someone had.

Dean made it out like she was unwilling to give him what he needed when she was pregnant, but the few times she’d tried, he didn't want any part of it. And still, he had made her believe it was her fault.

But then, each time she had a baby, and lost most of the weight, he’d sweet talk her into it, and knock her up again.

After Emma… she was too exhausted, too depressed to keep up the cycle. He had stopped nagging her. She thought things were getting better between them. Maybe he was respecting her. Turns out, he was just getting laid by younger, thinner, prettier women.

They’d never discussed the number of kids they wanted. She was sure Dean just wanted them for the bragging rights - The Boland Bunch! House in the suburbs. Dutiful, sweet wife taking them to all their activities. “Wow, Dean Boland is a lucky man, isn’t he?”

She would do it all again to keep the four of them - she didn’t want to imagine life without any one of her children- but in truth, she never should have let Dean touch her again after Kenny was born.

She was already in love with the baby growing in her belly. Dean could have cared less.

He'd probably start caring once the baby was old enough to wear his last name on the back of a jersey. Maybe then he'd thank Beth for carrying his child. 

She had actually liked being pregnant, she liked feeling their little kicks and somersaults.

But Dean made her feel so insecure about her body.

_ “For the last time, you look fine, Bethie. Not as hot as you used to, if I’m being honest, but maybe you could try one of those pilates classes the other moms go to…” _

She tried to ignore those types of responses to questions she felt were reasonable from your wife, _ “Am I still attractive? Do you still want me?” _

The first time she felt the baby kick, she was completely overwhelmed.

She'd immediately driven to the dealership to tell him.

_ "Oh… Beth?... What are you doing here?"  _ was the first thing out of his mouth when she’d walked into his office. 

_ "We wanted to surprise you,"  _ Beth had said softly.

Dean shifted in his chair looking out onto the showroom floor.

_ "Oh yeah? With what?" _

His eyes were distracted by something or someone else, but Beth continued.

_ "The baby started kicking this morning, not just little flutters, actual kicks I can feel... here…”  _ she winced a little, placing her hand over her belly.

_ “I thought you'd want... it's exciting, Dean..." _

Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, but she did everything in her power to control them.

_ "Well - yeah - I mean... yeah but... sweetie, women get excited about this sort of stuff. Men get excited about... other stuff... it's just - I thought you were making lasagna tonight. _

_...will it - do you think you'll still have it ready when I get home?" _

He spoke to her like she didn't understand basic concepts. Like he had to tell her how to be a woman and a wife.

She was too crushed to fight back, but she wouldn't let him tell her how to be a mom.

She would pour herself into motherhood. It would be something of her own... give her life meaning.

She resolved to just make the best of it with Dean.

He provided for her. For  _ them  _ . She reminded herself of that. Not that she needed to.

Dean reminded her constantly.

_ Still  _ , she thought,  _ I should be grateful. _

Fast-Forward to her fourth baby... 

After two hours of pushing, their 9 lb 13 oz, youngest baby girl was born. Aside from her nurse and doctor, Beth and Emma were alone in the delivery room.

It was her fourth kid, she wasn’t going to make a fuss over it. Annie and Ruby would chastise her, but she was glad she spared them the agony of watching her suffer for the last thirty-two hours.

After placing Emma on Beth’s chest, Dr. Wells squeezed Beth’s hand, kissing the top of her head.

_ “Good job, sweetheart. I’ve delivered a lot of babies, and you, mama, were remarkable.” _

Her daughter didn’t have a name yet. Dr. Wells’ first name was Emilio. She thought about Emily. But then Jane would be the only one whose name didn’t end with a “y”.

_ “Emma…”  _ she cooed to the blue-eyed baby in her arms.  _ “Emma Elizabeth. You like it, baby girl? Because I do… yes I do…”  _ Beth kissed her little cheeks a hundred times.

Dr. Wells smiled down at them both, teary eyed. He looked as exhausted as Beth felt, but somehow, happy… peaceful...

_ “I’m sorry I’ve kept you from your husband for nearly two days,”  _ Beth looked up toward him to apologize. 

_ “Don’t worry about that, doll. My job gives him the funds and freedom to golf all he wants. Besides, mothers like you, and babies like little Emma, make these long hours worth it. You truly are remarkable, Mrs. Boland.” _

Mrs. Boland.

After everything she’d done to bring her children into the world, keeping them safe, fed, clothed, and protected - all four of them still had Dean’s stupid last name.

None of it is fair, and it's a strange time to be thinking about it, but it  _ hurts  _ .

Like always, she’ll push the hurt down. Deal with it - if or when - there’s time.

Inside, Rio is trying his best to hurry and gather what Beth needs, but little things keep catching his eyes, making him stop and touch… making him ache.

The way her bras are neatly stacked on the shelf in her closet. Even her panties are folded neatly in a basket. 

He had taken the dresser she used to put them in. 

It hits him, how much he’s taken from her, and he wonders how this woman is so resilient.

She just keeps on being Beth. Keeps doing the best she can with what she has.

In another basket are envelopes, cards, a torn yellow package. The one he’d used to put her daughter’s blanket in. All of the envelopes and notes he’d left for her are there.

_ Fuck. _

They’d meant something to her. Despite everything.

He makes sure he gets every bottle of soap, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion in her bathroom. He leaves the crusty bar of soap he can tell whats-his-face uses. He should toss it, but he’ll pass on touching it.

He opens the lid on the lavender body wash - the one he smells on her when he drops by unexpectedly, and she’s ready for bed. It’s made of some calming formula that helps with sleep.

The smell makes him ache...again.

He snaps out of it. Neatly organizing all of her belongings into the one suitcase left in her closet.

Back in the car, Beth wraps Rio’s coat tighter around her legs, when she looks up to see him walk through the front door with her bag, and what looks like some type of toy in his other hand.

He puts her bag on the backseat, and hands Beth the toy when he climbs into the driver’s side. It’s a little blue stuffed animal that belongs to Emma.

Beth smiles, bringing the soft, worn object to her nose, then holding it to her chest.

“Thank you.”

Rio nods, with that gentle look he has.

"Alright, mama. Let's get you home."

There's a beat, they both catch it, but neither of them make the correction.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love to read your comments.


	4. still Elizabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy hope you all enjoy this chapter .... it's slow moving ... a slow burn? is that what that's called? not sure... xoxo ps there might be some triggering things in the implications in this chapter - nothing overt but still <3

Beth peers out the window as they make their way down Rio’s driveway… It’s not what she was expecting - at all.

The last place of his she’d seen had been a penthouse in the downtown district, and the last time she was there, well… this place is better.

It’s much more off-the-beaten path - outskirts of Detroit… graffiti lining the underpasses, and once old, historic, beautiful homes, now left abandoned, falling in disarray… eerie...sad.

They’d passed through an actual neighborhood, maybe one of the last ones left in this section of town… looks like people who live there take pride in hanging onto their homes in the midst of a collapsed economy.

Most of the houses need new paint, but the yards are tended to and there’s something heartwarming about that to Beth.

Rio’s wasn’t exactly in a neighborhood, but there are neighbors near enough, separated by a privacy fence.

His little house is “adorable…” Beth says, actually smiling.

Rio puts the van in park, and has to pause to stare at her. Let that smile sear into his memory, deeper and brighter than the images from earlier in the day. 

Beth won’t have the luxury of pushing those memories away, and so, for her sake, Rio won’t either - he won’t leave her alone with that nightmare.

But her smile, the way it takes over her whole face, transforming her into this person he desperately wants to know… he memorizes this too.

 _Goddamn your beautiful_.

“Thanks. Wasn’t much my style but I needed to be more...away.”

It’s one level, a mix of wood and brick, and Beth can already tell the clean lines of his manicured lawn is the work of a landscaper.

She sees the boxing bag, the gloves, the bench and dumbbells in the carport. 

It might be adorable, but it was still… Rio.

She can picture herself making that bare front-porch bench so cozy. It just needs some pillows - mauds and sage greens - a side table maybe, with a few plants to make it cute... _good_ _place to drink coffee_ , she thinks.

Rio shuts off the engine, rousing her from her brief reality escape.

“You ready, ma?”

Beth nods, shifting in her seat… her entire body hurts.

Rio goes around to the passenger door, holding it open for her.

It’s when she tries stepping out on unsteady legs, that she realizes how severe her physical trauma is. 

Every inch of her...burns… from the inside.

She tries to walk, tries to bite back the pain - gritting her teeth, inhaling deeply through her nose, trying to bear it.

But it's too much - And she's never been good with pain. 

It rarely shows up on her face. She doesn’t let anyone know. But she’s always had a low tolerance for it, steals herself away to cry alone.

Her thighs feel so tight - it’s like they’re ready to snap, and her pelvis feels deeply bruised.

"I can't..." she hiccups, trying so hard to hold back her tears - but she can't will herself to take another step. 

Rio’s eyebrows crease with the worry he’s trying to hide. 

He steps in front of her, presses his forehead down against hers, takes her face in his hands. 

She grips onto the fabric at his hips, lets out a shaky breath.

Dusk settles in. The sky turns deep shades of purple around them.

Beth's bottom lip begins to tremble.

"Something's wrong," her voice goes up a register, the way it does when she’s scared. 

He’s memorized this too - when Mick had a gun to her head, when he'd ordered him to kill Lucy - and he hates himself for it.

"Something's really wrong, Rio."

She breaks on this one, crying giant tears - a trembling mess. Terrified.

What used to be a mental note of her fear, the chinks in her armor… now feels different. 

He sees her, all of her, completely differently in an instant. 

Has she always been this person? 

This person who _felt_ this much. 

He’s suddenly sure she has, and understands on a micro-level how things had, in fact, gone wrong - how things had gotten this bad.

He’d had her mapped out… this makes her tick, this doesn’t. This motivates her, this doesn’t. 

Couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to incentivize her lately, what to do with her anymore.

But it makes sense now. 

He had missed this central part of her, the real part.

With real fear. Not designed to manipulate him, like he'd come to assume. 

In many ways, he’d overestimated her. He imagines she’s done the same with him.

He'd gotten so used to seeing her as a threat, a piece in his game, a distraction from the holes in his life - that he had missed so much about her.

She’s still Elizabeth - still the woman who snatched the air out of his lungs the first time he really looked at her. 

The woman that would hurl keys, a billiard ball, or her heated words at him with fire in her eyes.

The woman who looked at him like he invented sexuality when she was on a date with her husband.

The woman who walked past her shitty husband and pulled her dress up for _him._ Had let _him_ pull her panties down, like she'd never wanted anything more.

She was still the woman who came up with one of the most lucrative, low-scale cash-washing schemes he’d ever heard of - it had almost been too easy.

The woman who said _fuck it_ to someone else’s fake cash and figured out how to make her own.

Yeah - she’s that woman. And he has _that_ woman memorized from head-to-toe.

Was certain it was that woman alone who’d put three bullets in him…

But there was this missing part.

The girl.

The girl he’d had black-bagged and dragged from her home to a situation that left her raw and pained.

He’d called her a bitch. He remembers. It was the last thing he’d said to her, before…

Maybe if he’d seen it then, seen what he sees now.

A girl who’s scared, hurting, anxious…

She’d shown him - but he hadn’t believed her.

And now she’s trying not to show him, trying not to seek him out for comfort, and failing.

He’s seen her tears before, could never admit what they did to him.

He’s held her in ways and places his mouth and his hands could never forget… she felt so good it was sinful. 

But he filed it away under some euphoric experience that must have been one-sided because surely she didn’t have feelings, especially not for him. 

If she did that would mean he might start caring, _really_ caring. 

And worse, he’d have to start trusting her… trusting that what she was showing him was real and honest, and if he wanted her to keep showing it to him, he wouldn’t be able to use it against her...

They’ve both been too afraid to take their masks off for long.

But right now… standing in front of him, so vulnerable, he’s unable to keep up the game.

Beth reaches up for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her tears hot against the fabric on his chest.

Rio inhales at the feeling.

"Breathe for me, mama. We'll figure this out."

He gently lifts her chin, moves a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Wheres it hurt?" He tries to take it one step at a time.

"What's makin’ it hard to walk, sweetheart?"

Beth presses harder into Rio, trying to focus on her body - she feels half in and half out of it.

"My hips... my legs..." her voice is mixed with clarity and panic.

She focuses then, on the lower half of her body, and _god it hurts._

It feels like her muscles are rubber-bands, wound so tightly they may snap if she tries to move.

She's got that totally lost look - the one she had when her daughter was missing - Rio notices.

"I don't know what to do," she says, panicked.

Rio’s demeanor stays calm. He’s good at not giving away what’s going on inside.

"They feel tight? Like you got a rubber-band squeezin’ you?"

Beth nods.

Rio lets out his breath, bites his upper lip.

"I think you got some pulled muscles, probably your quads and hamstrings... your groin."

Beth hadn't had much time for extra-curricular activities, but she had been a dancer - had loved it… she missed it.

She remembers the soreness of her legs, and her aching feet. It had felt intense back then, but worth it - this felt scary.

Rio’s somewhat familiar with this type of pain. Always been a competitor. He remembers pulling his groin during a tennis match a while back - it was brutal. Couldn't take a full stride for weeks. Had to shuffle like an old man. 

It had been frustrating as hell. He can't imagine how Beth must be hurting.

Why hadn’t he given her pain medicine when they first got in the car? 

He was usually much more methodical, practical. Wasn’t used to getting side-tracked by the emotional.

But now he’s thinking about Beth and the physical. Sure, torn muscles weren’t long-term serious injuries - but papercuts aren’t serious either and yet they hurt like hell.

Rio thinks about Beth’s soft body full of pulled and torn muscles… like a thousand papercuts.

Beth thinks about the searing pain of the bullet wounds she'd caused him. 

She swallows, _karma_. She's almost grateful for the pain. Eases some of the guilt. Wonders if there's a part of him that feels the same.

"Ok," his breath fans out across her lips.

"Torn muscles will heal, darlin'. They'll heal back stronger than they were before.”

Rio notices Beth's expression - her wide eyes searching, frightened, not landing anywhere.

"I know your scared," he brushes his thumb across the dimple in her chin, "but I ain’t goin nowhere."

Beth’s eyes finally land on his. 

Rio's really comfortable with flirting - good at it. Expressing genuine affection? Much harder.

"I’mma make sure you heal from this..." his voice trails off, "All a this.”

Beth's having a hard time understanding his motives. Just wants to trust him, but can't stop herself from asking, "Why?"

“Don't worry bout it. I'mma take care of it, yeah? All of it. Any medicine you need - anything - Promise me you aint gonna worry bout any of it?" 

Beth's crinkled forehead begins to relax. She nods against his.

"You just gonna have to let yourself be taken care of for a lil’ bit. I know you used to takin' care a everybody else, ma. But not right now..."

Rio runs his fingers up and down her spine, pausing to rub his thumb at the base of Beth's neck.

"Hold onto me," he tells her.

With that, Rio carefully scoops her into his arms for the second time, and carries her inside.

  
-

The inside of Rio’s house is neat, orderly. The flatscreen TV set up in the living room with a white plush, _expensive_ rug - like he’s some kind of bougie gangster.

Well…

“Retail therapy…” Rio offers.

“Didn’t say anything,” the corners of Beth’s lips turn up into a slight smile.

 _Worth every cent a those six g's_ , Rio thinks.

He sets Beth gently on his equally _expensive_ leather sofa.

“You, uh... wanna get cleaned up... changed...?”

“I’m … really _thirsty_ ,” Beth realizes.

 _Fuck. Probably starvin’ too_ , Rio thinks.

Rio fills a glass full of ice-water with a pitcher from his refrigerator. Beth feels a little like she’s at a cozy spa. 

Under better circumstances, she'd really be enjoying herself.

She downs the entire glass in nearly one gulp, not caring about the water dripping off her chin.

She takes a breath of air, handing the glass back to Rio.

He refills her glass two more times, watching her - without making it obvious that he’s watching her.

“Whatchu want for dinner, mama?”

God, dinner. Beth’s completely famished. Insatiable hunger like she hasn't known since she was a fairly neglected child, but the thought of eating feels nauseating - like she’s starving but somehow without an appetite.

“I can make you a sandwich…” Rio grins, wiping the water from Beth’s chin and neck with his thumb.

”I got bread.”

Those big blue eyes and rosy cheeks - still the prettiest face he’s ever seen even with the dirt smudged on her… her hair tangled and disheveled.

Beth gives him a coy look. For a small moment, they get to be Beth and Rio without all the pain, the trauma, the hurt they’ve caused one another.

Neither says anything for a minute, just savor it. 

“Got an idea,” he goes to the freezer and brings Beth a fudge popsicle, the wrapper featuring some cartoon he pretends he buys for Marcus.

He also hands her another glass of water, and 2 pain pills.

“Just get somethin' in your belly, an take these. I’ll help you get cleaned up and we can worry bout dinner."

Beth looks at him, grateful, still a worried line between her eyebrows.

"Hey - we can order whatever sounds good, yeah? Even if you just eat one bite of each thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> appreciate your comments :')


	5. Anchored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving!! 
> 
> I feel bad waiting this long to update with this tiny little chapter - but maybe it's better than nothing? I wish I had more time/attention span to update more frequently. But I promise I won't neglect it. I'll finish it eventually. <3

Beth swallows the two large pills Rio hands her, and just the mere act of taking the medicine makes her feel a little better - like there’s an anecdote to at least some aspect of her pain.

She swears she feels the effects almost immediately.

“Shit. This is strong.”

“It’s good stuff,” Rio replies.

She finishes the chocolate popsicle - a brand she buys her kids - and that, too, feels like there’s a little levity back in her headspace.

Like maybe she’ll be alright.

Beth slides down off the couch, feeling the glorious plush rug on her sensitive skin.

She rolls her neck, reaches her hand across her upper body to rub at her shoulder.

Rio looks at her tentatively and moves to sit on the couch behind her, gently placing his fingers on her shoulders. “This ok?”

Beth nods, hesitantly at first, and then feels her head lull forward - alleviating the heaviness of keeping it upright.

Rio gently presses his thumbs into her shoulder blades, kneading his fingers into the tight muscles near her neck.

He feels, more than hears, her begin to softly cry. 

_Shit_ , Beth thinks.

_Just when I’d it pulled together._

“I got you, ma,” he says behind her.

Rio hears a little squeak, feels her skin warm beneath his hands. 

“It’s ok to feel it… you ain’t gotta pretend shit’s alright.”

But feeling is not what she’s good at. She likes _not_ feeling.

Except, right now, that isn’t an option.

Rio’s touch makes her feel… like she’s warm butter melting away.

She hasn’t been touched gently, tenderly...lovingly in _so_ long. 

Annie will rub her shoulders, run her hands through Beth’s hair. Emma still loves to be held and rubs her little fingers across the back of Beth’s neck whenever she’s in Beth’s lap.

And that’s something she’s not taking for granted, because she knows there are people who don’t have anyone at all...

But this - with Rio - it’s so new, and still so elemental - she aches wondering how she’s gone her whole life without it.

It’s like his fingers are making up for lost time, because Dean never touched her like this.

“I’m so tired…” Beth starts, “ I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay… pretending that I’m not hurting…” 

Rio leans down, wrapping an arm protectively across her chest.

“I just hurt, and hurt, and _hurt…_ ” she continues, “and then I hurt the one person who made me feel,” she tries to find the right word, “...just made me _feel_...” 

Rio slides down off the couch, scooting Beth forward a bit, before pulling her back to his chest as he sits on the floor. 

He wraps his arms around her, one hand resting on her hip, the other protectively splayed out on her stomach.

Beth stretches her legs out, crossing her ankles. Her head feels like it’s a million pounds as she lays it back against Rio’s chest - like she’ll crush him.

“I thought I could do this… this work. Do what you do - but I can’t… I can’t…”

Rio feels the fear rising in her belly as she continues.

“I don’t know how to take care of my family… I wanted to make things better… I’ve made them so much worse...” she’s cut off by the sound of her cries.

Rio nuzzles into her neck, placing a tender kiss against her shoulder. 

“I thought I could do this without you. I thought I had no choice. But - ”

Rio's grip tightens on her hip unintentionally.

"You shouldn't a been there."

His words sting. He realizes how they sound the moment they leave his mouth.

Beth closes her eyes, drops her head forward again.

"I know... _trust me_ I know I’m a fuck-up - ” 

"Nah, it - it ain't like that, darlin” he fumbles.

He loosens his grip, rubbing small circles over her hipbone with his thumb.

"I shouldn't a forced you to hustle alone…” he says, swallowing the last word.

“Actin like I didn’t give a shit,” he almost chuckles, “I knew better... 'n I shoulda done things different, yeah?"

"This is my fault," Beth says, her hand unintentionally gripping Rio’s thigh, "I deserved this - "

Rio reaches for her hand, gently prying her soft fingers from the death grip on his pants, applying pressure to the palm of her hand with his fingers and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Hey…” he says softly.

"I need you to look at me,” his voice is still soft but there’s something more firm behind it now.

Beth shakes her head.

“Look at me, mama,” he says, patiently.

Beth shakes her head again, but this time turns in his arms.

From this angle they’re so close, their eyes immediately lock.

“Elizabeth,”

Beth swallows.

“This ain’t your fault,” he has to clear his throat, and blink, because for some reason his eyes are stinging like they were earlier when he first learned she was in trouble.

"None of it, yeah? _None. of. It.”_ he punctuates.

Beth’s chin quivers. That little dimple in the center making Rio’s lungs feel tight.

He reaches his hand up to stroke her cheek and steady her chin.

“Elizabeth.”

“Rio.”

“Hm..” he sighs. 

Hearing his name in her sweet, teary voice does something that seems to crack him open - unlock some part of him that he didn’t realize was ever there.

 _Her fucking voice,_ he thinks. Doesn’t even have something to compare it to - except maybe angels, if he had to guess.

“Listen to me…” he’s got a hold of Beth now in a way that would say to anybody watching, _This is mine._

“You needa make sense of what happened? Need someone to blame?" he bites the inside of his cheek, “then blame _me_. You hear me, ma? Cause this ain't on you."

Beth presses her forehead against Rio’s temple.

“I can’t blame you… you’ve never… you would never hurt me like that…”

Rio’s jaw tightens. “ _No one_ should hurt you like that. No one.” 

He pauses, feeling that unlocked part of himself growing stronger.

“No one should hurt you, _period_. Ever. ” 

There’s that chin quiver again. Three bullets couldn’t kill him, but this might.

He softens.

"I know, darlin…” he tells her. 

“I just needa hear you say it. I need you to tell me you didn’t deserve what that…” he shudders, “that fuckin’ _thing_ did to you. Please lemme hear you say it.”

Beth sniffs, and Rio’s next words come out so low and pleading.

“Can you do that for me, mama?"

His eyes are still soft, but there’s something behind them so intense it cuts through Beth like a cold knife.

"I ... I didn’t... deserve ... what happened to ..."

It's all she can get out before her head falls hard against Rio's shoulder.

“ - to you,” Rio finishes.

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you,” he repeats over and over while Beth stays glued to his chest in a mixture of tears, sweat, blood, dirt… she’s not sure what else - doesn’t want to think about it.

Rio’s words quiet into a whisper as he rubs her back.

Beth wants to say thank you - in a million different ways - in every language there is, for everything Rio is doing for her.

But there’s still something in her that needs to shelf it, for now.

It’s all too painful to process, and she fears this thing they have will go away again.

She stores this moment somewhere safe, and swears she’ll come back to it later - will find a way to thank him.

“I need a bath,” Beth hiccups, peeling her sticky face away from his neck.

Her hand has fisted so hard into his shirt, it’s twisted up at his chest.

Rio looks down.

Apparently gripping onto different parts of him is some way for her to feel anchored.

Like if not, she might get ripped away.

He doesn’t like the feeling that invokes in his stomach.

“Come on then,” he watches as she loosens her fingers, letting go of the fabric and clinging to his bicep instead. 

He’s ready to pick her up, but she lays her head against his shoulder and loops her arm through his. 

The muscle relaxer in the pain meds have taken effect and she’s able to walk with him toward his master suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this fic so far is just a lot of Beth crying but I feel like that is understandable given the circumstances? 💔❤️


	6. Marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: heavy references to rape/sexual assault  
> (brief mention of self-harm)
> 
> Hi (a very belated) Merry Christmas and Happy New year 💗

Rio’s bathroom really is like a spa, Beth observes, as she goes to sit on the edge of the huge clawfoot tub fit for a king.

Rio turns on the gas fireplace. 

Yeah. The man has a fireplace in his _bathroom_.

It’s got an eclectic feel because the house is a bit older, but it’s all clean lines and white tiles - 

Another white fluffy rug in front of the tub that looks and feels like a cloud.

The cleanly brightness stands in stark contrast to Beth.

“Maybe I should just… go out back, you could hose me off.”

She’s half serious. When Jane’s a muddy mess after soccer, that’s how she cleans her up.

Unsurprisingly, Jane actually looks forward to it, purposefully getting even muddier.

Someday, Jane will be too old to take a water-hose bath, and Beth feels like crying at the mere thought of that, but right now, standing in Rio’s immaculate bathroom, she just feels… dirty... out of place.

The dim lights in the living room made her forget what kind of a hellish sight she must be.

She probably stained his expensive rug too.

She’s too afraid to look in the mirror in front of his sink.

“I’ll buy you some oxyclean - I’ve gotten really good at getting out stain - ” 

“You ain’t buyin’ shit, mama,” Rio bites, cutting her off.

Beth recoils at his tone. 

“I told you I’mma take care a you - it - I’mma take care a it. You ain’t supposed to be worryin’ ‘bout none of it.”

 _Why are you doing this?_ She thinks.

She doesn’t _want_ to question his motives.

For one, she’s entirely too exhausted to be battling him in their usual mind games.

More importantly, she _wants_ to believe him, and although there’s a part of her that can’t even admit this to herself…she wants to be taken care of too.

_But why is he being so goddamn wonderful?_

It’s like a switch flipped, and every bit of effort he was putting into monitering her, incentivizing her, fucking with her head - something he seemed to _enjoy_ \- and keeping her on her toes … is suddenly turned into this…she looks around... _this_?

She wants to believe in his kindness…

...the way she believed in it when he pulled her onto his lap in her bed, helping her straddle him, kissing her neck like she was the sweetest thing, rubbing his thumbs over her thighs, coaxing her… _“that’s it mama, just like that”_ she’d nearly sobbed at his praise, _“i gotchu...”_

She’d cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain when he’d shifted, changing the angle, and he’d pulled back, his eyebrows knit together, rubbing circles on her back, _“you ok darlin?”_

 _"mmm.. yyyesss...”_ she’d whimpered, pressing her cheek against his, squeezing her thighs tighter around him.

He’d moaned her name then, and she knew, without a single doubt, not all men were like Dean, because Rio kept rubbing her back as he came inside her…

...he had cared, she believed he had cared... 

And she wants to believe that again. But…

“Sorry, ma… I didn’t - I didn’t mean to snap like that. I aint worried ‘bout stains though, aight?”

Again, she thinks, _who the fuck are you and what have you done with Rio?_

But he comes at her, softer now, stopping a foot away.

And yeah… his eyes are deep and kind enough to believe…

Beth is so sore and tired... so what if he’s got some ulterior motive?

Right now… she’s thinking of his fingertips brushing the hair out of her eyes again, thinking about how much she’s missed that…

Missed him.

“Okay,” her voice is light and sweet.

Rio sighs, he hasn’t heard her voice like that in so long, and _fuck_ he’d do anything to hear it like that again.

“Okay,” he responds.

Beth had been planning to take a shower - as far as she was able to “plan” anything in the last couple of hours - that thought had been in the back of her mind…

_Maybe once I get in the shower - and just let it all wash down the drain..._

Rio’s shower is _nice…_ bright sage marble tiles… it’s enticing but -

She looks behind her at this giant tub, with this soft, cloud-like rug under her aching feet.

She has no desire to sit in the filth coming off of her…but sitting _certainly_ sounds better than standing and...

Rio seems to read her mind. 

“Got a water tank the size of a small boat... you - we - I can refill it as many times you want,” he says, nodding at the tub.

Beth nods, unsure what to do next... send him out?

Ask politely for him to leave?

Ask politely for him to stay?

Beg him to stay? Start crying again?...

“Here…” Rio comes toward her with his hands slightly up. 

“You ok if I help you?”

Safe. That’s ‘ _Rio_ ’ language for, “Do you feel safe?”

“No…” Beth says quietly, her eyelashes fluttering.

Rio nods, holding his breath.

“But I still want you to...” Beth finishes, barely above a whisper.

Rio kneels in front of her where she’s still seated on the edge of the tub.

“Wanna take this off, yeah?” Rio asks, gesturing to her dress. 

Beth nods.

“Okay,” Rio offers, “we’ll start there.”

Beth tries to imagine she’s some place else. Tired of feeling vulnerable, exposed.

Rio’s breath hitches as he begins unbuttoning her and sees purple bruises covering her breasts.

“I’m afraid to look down…” she admits.

“It’s ok…” Rio says, more shakily than he intended.

His fingers start to shake when he gets her dress open enough to uncover her light-blue bra, with scratch marks that disappear into the cups - scratch marks and dried blood...

His own blood boils.

And it hits him again, what happened to her. 

Seeing her body makes everything too real.

He saw that psychopath on top of her - he _knows_ what happened…

He’s been with her every second since, but somehow the marks and bruises on her breasts absolutely undo him -

\- and he’s positive if he doesn’t break something - something inside of him will break.

And now he’s the one who’s not sure what to do.

He wants to rip the sink out of the floor,

Smash every marble tile in the goddamn shower.

He tries to catch his breath, but it’s increasingly more difficult - and, fuck, is his nose bleeding? - 

_What’s happening?_

He looks up and catches sight of his face in the vanity mirror, and sees it’s not blood, but tears - and maybe some snot - wetting his face.

Beth looks stunned.

_Fuck you scarin’ her - the fuck is wrong with you, hijo, you never fuckin’ -_

“Come here, hey… come here...” Beth says, taking Rio’s face in her hands, wincing a little.

And he won’t let her comfort him, he absolutely won’t .. she’s the one hurting, she’s the one with the marks on her body -

\- and it’s not because Dom was scared, defending himself - no, it was the opposite, and Rio can’t bear to look at her like this.

But then Beth’s pulling his face against her breasts, and the softness Rio feels pressed to his cheek calms him instantly.

“I’m sorry ma you ain’t gotta - ”

“Please…” Beth soothes, “please let me…”

His tears feel comforting, cleansing.

There’s a sob somewhere deep in her throat, but she swallows around it.

Rio grips the tub on either side of her until his palms ache and his knuckles are white.

Beth cradles his head, runs her fingers into the back of his shirt, down his neck.

...and without leaning too much weight into her, Rio eventually wraps his arms around her waist, inhaling and exhaling as her chest rises and falls.

He wants to stay like this - cheek to chest - forever…

...but he knows she’s exhausted, hurting, and hungry - so, reluctantly, he pulls his face back enough to murmur something she can’t quite hear into her neck, before placing a soft kiss there, sitting back to look at her, wiping his hand over his eyes and nose.

Beth’s eyes are soft...

She looks a little more like herself.

 _It's alright, sweetie_ … she wants to say.

Her fingers feel tingly, aching to pull him back against her. 

Instead, she continues unbuttoning her dress, keeping her eyes on Rio’s.

When it’s loose enough to come off, Rio helps her raise her arms and carefully pull it over her head.

Her hair falls back over her shoulders like a halo, and he tosses her dress in his wastebasket, hoping that was the right move.

“Thank you,” Beth says.

Rio nods.

“I think… I’ll keep these on… for now…” Beth says, referring to her bra and panties, her hands instinctively going to cover her soft tummy. If she had more hands, she’d use them to cover up the cellulite on her thighs. 

The lace of her bra is torn, her panties look like there’s some blood on them.

There’s an unsettling amount of bruising on the rest of her body, particularly on one side, and Rio wonders if she may also have a fractured rib.

He swallows, then inhales sharply, his eyes diverting to the faucet -

He can’t turn into the hulk and smash everything in sight… Not right now...

“This prolly aint the time…” Rio starts, faltering a bit.

Beth looks at him, and he thinks maybe he shouldn’t, but now he knows he’s gotta finish his sentence, “...but you’re beautiful, mama, really fuckin’ beautiful.” 

So beautiful it makes him ache… and to see her body so violated…

Beth shrugs, looking down… “you’re nice...I guess it is a good time…because I feel anything but that...”

Rio wants to tell her it has nothing to do with him being nice...

“I think this’ll help,” he says instead, turning on the water, “feel it in a minute and lemme know if it’s too hot.”

Beth sticks her hand out, the water feels so good flowing through her fingers.

“Did you bring my, um - ”

Rio almost forgot.

“Yeah - yeah I’ll grab it.”

He comes back with a toiletry bag filled with all her things...and she could honestly start crying again.

He sits her toothbrush and toothpaste on the counter, along with several different creams and lotions. 

He takes out her shampoo and conditioner, and then finds what he knows she wants most - that lavender body wash.

Rio helps Beth into the tub.

The warm water envelops her aching body - and that sob she’s been holding back finds its way to her mouth, sounding more like a moan.

The sensation has her wiggling her feet, opening and closing her fists underneath the water, and shutting her eyes against cathartic tears, a smile creeping to her lips.

“This feels so good..”

She shivers and melts all at once, like this is the first bath of her life, and it’s all new.

Even with her bra and panties on, she feels some of the horrors of today rinsing off.

“Keep your eyes closed, mama,” Rio says, tipping her chin back and cradling her head.

He pushes her bangs back with the palm of his hand, squeezing warm water into her hair with a giant washcloth.

Rio shampoos Beth’s hair, and more tears flow as he massages her scalp with his expert fingers.

His bottom lip juts out, breathing through his mouth, concentrating on making sure her hair’s all clean and tangle-free with the conditioner.

He finds some makeup remover and gently wipes the remaining mascara from her eyes and cheeks, using the washcloth to clean her face. 

The fire crackles as he runs his thumbs over the freckles on her nose, the smile lines by her eyes, along her hairline, her jaw, her pink lips- her face completely relaxes under his touch - his own face softens in a way he forgot was possible… 

Her blue eyes blink open, glazed over with something new to him… trust maybe… 

She’s got her hand loose around his wrist as he worships - or - washes her face.

And yeah… he wasn’t just being nice earlier.

She's beautiful.

He lets the water drain as he takes the washcloth again, lathering it with body-wash.

He begins gently scrubbing the dirt and grime from each of her hands, concentrating particularly on her fingernails.

Beth’s head rests against his shoulder and he feels her start to shiver as he refills the tub.

He pours the body wash directly into his hands this time, smoothing the creamy soap onto her shoulders and back... down her arms... feeling her begin to warm again under his touch.

He’s got his tongue poked out between his teeth, lost in the feel of her silky skin, and Beth vacillates between craving every caress and feeling too vulnerable, too trusting, too outside of her comfort zone…

...but then Rio’s got one hand pressed between her shoulder blades, the other rubbing body-wash across her chest, over the swell of her breasts, his fingers dipping to the top of her bra, and she hears him exhale as he rubs his thumb in circles over her heart.

“Rio…”

And it’s like she’s snapped him out of a trance.

“Oh, mm sorry,” he mutters - turning the faucet back off as the water has risen to just beneath her chest.

“It’s…. alright…um,” Beth clears her throat, “I think… I can probably manage my… lower half…” she blushes.

Rio’s throat burns as he swallows.

Neither of them are sure how to feel, or what to say.

There’s absolutely no rulebook for what they are, who they are, or the situation they now find themselves in.

“I’m sorry if - ” Rio starts.

“No,” Beth says, bringing her wet hand up to his cheek, pulling his face down to press her forehead against his, “it’s not you...”

She pulls back, and he lets out his breath.

“I’mma turn around while you finish… if you need me - ”

“Thank you…” 

Beth winces as she finishes soaping up her belly, legs, and feet as best she can using the washcloth on the parts that require the most scrubbing. 

She refills the water again.

“Don’t turn around yet,” she says quietly.

“You good, darlin’...”

She moves to pull her bra off first. And the thought of touching her own naked breasts makes her queasy.

It’s the same feeling, but worse, when she removes her underwear. 

She knows she should probably soak in the clean water a moment longer to make sure she doesn’t end up with an infection on top of everything else.

She’s certain she has some internal tearing, and the thought of that evil man’s semen still inside of her has her breathing shallower, faster.

She’s pretty sure most of it leaked out by now, into the ruined underwear crumpled next to her ruined bra.

“Rio…” she says, voice small, “did you happen to grab my… feminine… wash... by chance?”

“Uhm… yeah I got everything, lemme see” - he reaches for her bag, back still turned to her, holding up the wash above his head.

“Just toss it,” Beth says.

The wash lands with a splash in front of her.

“Got it…”

She half expects Rio to crack a joke, but…he’s clearly just as shaken by everything as she is. 

She does the best she can to clean and rinse herself without concentrating on how much anger and emotion surfaces from merely touching herself.

She unplugs the drain for the last time… “I’m … I think I’m ready to get out… but - ”

“My eyes are closed,” he says, getting up, first bringing the trash can and letting her dispose of her undergarments, watching him tie the bag up, and toss it out into the bedroom.

“I’mma take that out as soon as we get you squared away.”

Beth realizes she could not be doing this on her own.

Not without completely dissociating or most likely, self-harming - something she hasn’t done since her early thirties - not since Danny was born. 

Not even after she found out about Dean cheating.

Or after...

It had all just made her numb.

But if she had to deal with the aftermath of _this_ alone, without Rio…

“Turn around mami, I ain’t lookin’, swear on Mick’s life.”

Beth reaches for Rio’s hand, stands, and faces away from him.

He keeps his eyes straight ahead, draping a giant, fluffy, gray towel around her shoulders, letting her pull it tight around her body, practically swaddled.

Beth turns to face him, his eyes locking on hers, fingers tucking a few wet strands of hair behind her ears, before helping her out of the tub onto the heavenly rug.

Beth sighs again at the wonderful sensation. 

Rio tucks the towel around her, then gently scoops her up again.

“I’m really starting to get used to this.”

“Oh yeah?” Rio smirks. _Me too, ma_... he thinks.

Rio has neatly laid out a clean pair of panties, a soft bra, and her faded cream-colored pajamas on his bed.

“I’ve had these since Emma was nursing… It might be time to retire them soon...” she says more to herself, than him.

“Nah… I like 'em, they look good on you,” Rio smiles, easy.

"I didn’t mean it like - I’m sorry... I actually love these...thank you..."

Rio gently squeezes her shoulder.

“I’ll be right out here, Imma leave the door cracked...”

Beth nods.

It takes her close to fifteen minutes, but she manages to get dressed, with some concerted effort.

It’s when she stands up, and tries to take an unsteady step, that a wave of anxiety rushes over her.

 _God damn_ , when did she become this fragile… what would she do without... “Rio…” she calls for him, quietly, hating how needy she’s become.

“Rio…” still nothing.

He'd run to take the trash out, gone a total of 45 seconds when he hears her calling his name, "Riiooo!"

He flies in the room, almost comically, relief washing over his face when he sees that she’s okay. 

“Sorry,” she says, standing there at the foot of his bed - hair dripping onto her back and shoulders - awkwardly looking past him.

“I wasn’t sure I could walk without help.”

He's struck by this image of her - parallel to that day in _her_ bedroom, with her mismatched socks… how fuckin’ adorable she… _socks._

“You good, ma…” he reassures her, “Ay...your feet cold?

Beth looks down at her bare feet, while Rio grabs another towel from the linen closet and squeezes the water out of her hair.

He could’ve sworn he packed socks for her, but he can’t find them in the bag.

He goes to his top drawer, and finds his red slipper socks with the grip on the bottom - Marcus gave them to him for Christmas. They’re a little goofy, but he loves them.

He remembers her foot cream. She literally had a lotion or cream for every part of her body.

 _Palmer’s Cocoa Butter Foot Magic,_ he reads the label to himself.

“I didn’t know white girls used this stuff,” he says, kneeling in front of Beth seated on the bed.

“Your girl give you this?” he asks.

“Who?” Beth asks, confused.

“Your girl.”

“My sister?”

“Nah - la tercera amiga.”

“Rio, that’s a little presumptuous of - ”

“She did, yeah?”

Beth rolls her eyes, trying to recall where she got the lotion, then remembering Ruby leaving some at Beth’s house, then buying it for her as a gift, after Beth "accidentally” used the rest. 

“Ok… yes…but...”

Rio smirks. 

“Ruby knows bath oils and lotions are the way to my heart.” 

“How 'bout cake mixers ‘n cookie cutters?” Rio asks playfully.

“Another great way to my heart.”

“And bourbon?”

“ _God…_ yes…” Beth answers.

“Anything else I should note?”

Several other things hang in his mind: printing money, delicate gold jewelry, running a business, _soft_ sweaters, pretty dresses, her children’s artwork, being her own boss, good coffee, being his boss, silky robes, being everyone’s boss, knitting her children blankets, quilting, gift giving, girls’ night, running the world maybe... being his world, maybe...

Beth shrugs, a blush blooming on her neck. 

Rio follows the blush to the V of her top, remembering the bruises.

“Well, we’ll start with this, yeah?” Rio asks, squirting the lotion in his hands and rubbing them til its warm.

Beth didn't realize how tense her muscles had become in just that short time, until Rio begins massaging the lotion into the sole of her foot.

She figures she spends most of her time feeling tense, her muscles wound tight.

Without Rio’s touches, and now, massages, she would have never known there was any other way to be. 

But this feels...better...

As he slides the second sock on, Beth starts to feel self-conscious again.

He just bathed her, he’s been inside of her - but somehow letting him put socks on her feet feels like a new level of intimacy. 

“Sorry. I have dancer feet. They're not very cute.”

Rio kisses the bottom of her freshly socked foot, “Ain’t nothin’ bout you not cute, Elizabeth,” he smiles, that easy way he does, bringing her foot to the floor, and his thumb to her chin.

“Aight... let’s go order some dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well… if you ever wanted to read a detailed fic of someone having a bath - this is the fic for you! … why am i like this? I just write so many details .. idk if ..

**Author's Note:**

> I like reading comments so feel free to leave them xo


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